Fear makes people loose with language.
Men who felt safe did not whisper like that.
They were not scared of a bag in a purse.
They were scared of something larger.
Something already in motion.
Good.
Very good.
At the station, the sally port gate rattled open.
The cruiser rolled into harsh overhead light.
Security cameras pointed from three angles.
Claire counted them all.
Kessler opened her door and yanked her out.
“We can still make this easy,” he said.
Claire met his eyes.
“Easy for who?”
His mouth flattened.
They walked her through the back entrance.
Inside, the station smelled like burned coffee, copier toner, old sweat, and floor cleaner.
Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead.
The booking sergeant glanced up from his desk.
“What’ve we got?”
“Possession,” Kessler said. “Possible resisting.”
“I didn’t resist,” Claire said.
“Didn’t ask you,” Kessler snapped.
The booking sergeant looked at her a little longer than he looked at most people.
